I went down to my hometown yesterday.
Needed to get a "City" fix.
Truth is, you can take the kid out of the City, but you can't take the City out of the kid.
Can't stay away too long, otherwise I get morose. So, when my beautiful stepdaughter said she needed some help, the BRW and I were packed and on the bus before the cats even had a chance to carry-on about our leaving.
Spring has sprung in the City.
Although you need to pay attention to realize it. The City doesn't scream it out, it just places reminders here and there, knowing that the observant will realize what's happening.
The greenery nestles within the crevasses of architecture, blending and melding the various structures into a cohesive whole.
Softening the harshness of too much traffic, too much liter, too much noise and too many people.
But, then again, that's what the city is all about: Too much.
Restaurant begats restaurant, begets yet another.
Until every space contains something; something to call out, to let you know that humanity lives here, despite the constant changes of existence.
And even those of us that seek to ply a different route: to wander astride the Pegasus of Today, find comfort and familiarity nestled amongst the curbs, beneath the green of spring.
It was a short stay - one day, down and back, but it refreshed me, and I recalled the words written on metal, down at the tip of the City, along the Hudson River:
"I can't even enjoy a blade of grass unless I know
there's a subway handy,
or a record store or
some other sign that people do not totally regret life.
It's more important to confirm the least sincere.
The clouds get enough attention as it is....